Ambivalently Yours

Paradise on Earth

When your alarm goes off Saturday morning, you groan audibly. You fumble around on your nightstand to grab it and turn it off. After grumbling to yourself for a few minutes about how you were sacrificing sleep for some boy, you drag yourself out of bed and head to the shower.

You'd already decided on an outfit the night before. A basic sweatshirt and leggings combo, because you didn't want to look like you tried too hard, but you still wanted to look cute. You do simple makeup, leave your hair down, and spray on a little bit of perfume to bring it all together.

When Rafe comes to pick you up, you're ready with your first comment of the day. "Only you could convince me to get up at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday," you say as you climb into the passenger seat.

"I'm honored," he says with mock seriousness. He backs out of the spot he's parked in and starts heading out of the apartment complex. "Are you hungry now, or did you want to wait and eat on the road?" he asks.

"I desperately need caffeine, so let's get breakfast now," you answer. "And remember, I'm paying."

He chuckles. "I remember," he replies.

After a run through Starbucks, you hit the interstate. You bicker over music for a few minutes before he gives in, showing you how to log in to your Spotify on the fancy dash screen. You decide you won't torture him with your Taylor Swoft playlist (yet), so you settle on a playlist you have saved called Classic Road Trip Songs.

"Cliché," he says when he sees the playlist title. "But I'm into it."

You adjust the volume so it isn't too loud, more like background noise. "Tell me about your family. I know I'm not meeting them, but I feel like I should know a little bit about them since I'm about to be all up in their house today," you say, looking over at him.

"Uh, okay, um, where to begin?" he asks himself. "So, you know about my mom... Um, my dad's name is Ward. He and my mom divorced when I was eight or nine. He got remarried to Rose, my stepmom. My youngest sister is Wheezie, and my other sister is Sarah."

"Wheezie?" you repeat.

"Louisa," he clarifies. "We've always called her Wheezie."

"Ah. That makes sense. So what do your dad and stepmom do?"

"Dad runs a couple businesses. Construction, real estate, fishing excursions for tourists. Rose is a realtor for the real estate business."

"Sounds like a busy man," you comment.

"Yeah, he works a lot," he replies.

"Are you close with them?"

There's a beat of silence before he answers. "Not particularly. I was only ever close with my mom."

That breaks your heart a little. You don't want the conversation to go south, so you change directions. "I always wanted siblings. I'm an only child. And I'm not particularly close with my family either," you say.

"Only child? That explains a lot," he says, feeling relieved that you turned the conversation away from him. He'd eventually tell you more, but it was still too soon.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

He laughs. "I imagine you were a precocious child. Were you?"

"Slightly," you admit. "But, to be fair, I had to learn to be independent from a young age. No brothers or sisters to fight with or entertain me or teach me anything. I was on my own a lot. And when I wasn't alone, I was always around adults."

"What about your friends?"

"I only had a few. I was pretty shy," you say.

"You? Shy? I don't believe it for a second," he says.